


Cornelia Street

by gentlemanscanal



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Marriage, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), eddie and richie were married, the album lover (2019) was written for reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlemanscanal/pseuds/gentlemanscanal
Summary: "And I hope I never lose you, hope it never endsI'd never walk Cornelia Street againThat's the kind of heartbreak time come never mend"Richie and Eddie left for Derry together. Richie returns alone.





	Cornelia Street

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by "Cornelia Street" by Taylor Swift
> 
> Hey, this is something I wrote over a month ago and never posted because I thought it was too short and shitty to even bother but whatever enjoy this mess?

The last time Richie had stood on their front stoop, he’d been nervously fumbling with his key, trying to lock the door as Eddie stuffed their luggage in the trunk of a cab and yelled something from the street about the line at security. Now, he stood alone in the silence. 

The first time the two had stood on that stoop together they were accompanied by their luggage on a sweltering August afternoon. Eddie had been accepted into a graduate program at Georgetown and, after selling nearly everything they owned and borrowing a bit more than was advisable from their savings, they could afford their little haven. That night, they ate sandwiches from the deli down the street on their mattress on the floor. But that was over 15 years ago. 

Since IT, Richie felt like he’d been living on autopilot. It seems that in this state, Richie had failed to consider just how much said front stoop would affect him. Standing on the concrete, staring at his shoes, Richie was overcome by memories: hanging Christmas lights together (and not taking them down until January), dancing in the dark of the kitchen, fridge light illuminating their faces in harsh light, whole weekends spent in bed, sharing books and secrets.

Once Richie had finally willed himself to unlock the door and shuffle inside, the ache in his chest only grew, becoming sharper and more specific. When Richie saw the stairs, he saw himself rushing after Eddie, taking them two at a time, heading for the bedroom. When Richie saw the couch, he saw the two of them passed out halfway through that new movie they’d been meaning to watch, Eddie’s head on Richie’s shoulder, Richie’s head on Eddie’s. When Richie saw the kitchen, he heard rather than saw Eddie’s bare feet creaking across the hardwood as he made his nightly cup of tea. 

Standing in the middle of the home that, cruelly, no longer belonged to both of them, Richie made a realization so harsh and ironic the only thing he could do was laugh: far too often, despite the fact that Eddie keeps a picture of Richie in his office, had doted on him since they were 13, and whispered things that sound curiously like vows in the dark of their bedroom, Richie found himself growing terrified of Eddie leaving him: one day deciding Richie wasn’t enough for him, that he’d fallen out of love.  Now, though Eddie hadn’t left him, their home had become unlivable. To be completely honest, he didn’t think he knew how to exist without Eddie; there is only a small portion of his life that he has any conscious recollection of that didn’t revolve almost solely around Eddie. The sacred new beginnings of their little place on Cornelia Street had become a religion to Richie, so what was he meant to do now?


End file.
